Perchance To Dream
by Jennisms
Summary: England has been having strange and terrifying dreams lately, dreams that vanish like smoke with the dawn. What he doesn't realize are these nightmares are far more then they seem. These dreams not only threaten him but the other countries as well. Will the nations realize the threat before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So this is my first Hetalia fanfic so I apologize if anyone is out of character! I'm really excited and hope you like it! And remember, constructive criticism is always welcome. :)**

* * *

These United Nations meeting seemed to go on forever.

England rubbed his temple, groaning softly. He was trying to pay attention, he really was, but he was in such agony that he just couldn't focus. If he hadn't known better he might have thought he had a hangover.

Other than his head threatening to implode. The meeting was the same as any other.

Italy had long since stopped paying attention to the meeting and was currently doodling, Germany hadn't noticed yet but would undoubtedly be scolding him any moment now. France was his usual flamboyant self. Russia smiled and laughed creepily at the spectacle all around him. America was saying something bombastic and ridiculous and Japan was agreeing with him. China was muttering to himself about how everyone should listen to him because he's the oldest. Which wasn't even true anyway.

England ran a hand through his hair. He just wanted to get this horrible day over with.

Maybe tonight he could finally get some sleep...

"Hello? Earth to Britain! YO!"

England flinched in response and glared at America. "WHAT!?"

"Dude, you look like you're gonna hurl!" The obnoxious laughter was like a drill in England's head as America placed a hand on his shoulder.

He heard France chuckle lightly. "You do look worse than usual, _Angleterre._"

_Wanker._

"Get away from me!" He snapped, standing up and slapping America's hand away. "I already told you I'm..." Too fast. He was dizzy, his legs giving out suddenly, causing him to fall.

There was a collective shout as he fell. His forehead striking the table on the way down.

"Britain!?"

"What on earth?"

"Is he okay...?"

England groaned and blinked to clear his vision. Slowly the faces of America, France, and... Canada...? Yes, Canada. Came into focus. They stood above him and stared down with varying levels of concern or amusement.

"Damn dude! You're bleeding!"

"What?" _That can't be right. _He reached up, gingerly touching his forehead. When he pulled back his hand, sure enough, his fingers were covered with blood.

"Every one calm down!" Germany snapped.

England sat up, still staring at the blood. He felt his lips twitch involuntarily.

"Ha... Ha ha..." Suddenly, a torrent of laughter and chuckles burst from inside him. Full of mirth and even whimsy, it just wouldn't stop. "Ha ha ha! Heh heh! Hahahaaaa~"

America grabbed his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Britain? Dude! Snap out of it!"

England began to take quick breaths, trying to regain his composure. Slowly, the laughter trickled down to giggles, then chuckling. Soon, he was left breathless and more than a little disturbed. He had no idea what had just happened to him.

"Perhaps you should call a doctor, America." Germany's voice was quiet but steady as he eyed England with a hint of something akin to concern. "We should reschedule this meeting."

England shook his head. "I just need to go home." He tried to stand alone but America wouldn't release him. America pulled him up the rest of the way and allowed England to steady himself by grabbing his shoulder.

"No problem, dude! We can do both."

Too tired and dazed to argue he allowed America to lead him out of the conference room while the rest of the nations exchanged puzzled looks and began gossiping loudly.

It was a godsend when England found himself back in his home.

His forehead was mostly healed, only the scar remaining that would fade in the next few days. One of the perks of being a country.

America had stayed with him the entire time, despite England's protests, though secretly he was pleased to see that idiot worried about him for once.

England sighed as he fell into his favorite chair.

"You need anything else before I head out?" America asked, being surprisingly thoughtful.

"A cup of tea would be lovely." He mumbled almost absentmindedly before eyeing America warily. "You do remember how to make tea, don't you?" After all these years of drinking coffee just to be spiteful, England wouldn't have been surprised.

"No prob! Just sit back and let the HERO do the work."

England inwardly groaned as America ran off. Everything wrong with America, he blamed on France.

Leaning back in his chair, England let his eyes droop close but he just couldn't find a comfortable spot. After a few minutes of readjusting he finally gave up. He was just about to stand to go check on America when he noticed something on the table across the room.

Sitting on a plate sat a... fairy cake?

He stared at it for a moment. Blinking once, twice, as if he expected it to disappear.

England stood and approached the table picking up the small sweet and examining it. It looked and smelled delicious, with light pink, almost white frosting and blue sprinkles. Who on earth left this here? Wales perhaps? Not Scotland, surely.

"Here's your tea!" America shouted while bursting into the room, holding a cup of tea. His eyes landed on the treat in England's hands. "Ooh! Cupcakes! Can I have one? Come on dude, pleeeease?"

"Yes! Yes, fine, just take it and give me my tea!" He and America switched. England took a very small sip, it wasn't as good as he was used to but it was good enough for now.

America was gleefully peeling away the wrapper. He was about to take a bite but jerked to a halt. "Hold on. Did _you _make this?"

"What is that supposed to mean!?" He snapped. He had long ago lost patience with people insulting his cuisine. "No, for your information, I didn't make it."

America smiled, brilliantly. "Cool!" He took a big bite, practically shoving the whole thing into his mouth all at once. "Mmmm~!"

England sat down in the chair again, taking another sip of tea.

He watched America out of the corner of his eye. The fool practically inhaled the cupcake, leaving just a slight smear of icing on the corner of his mouth. He noisily licked his fingers before sighing contently. "Damn, that was awesome! I can't remember the last time I had a cupcake that good!"

"Yes, well, thanks for your help. You may leave now."

America frowned. "You know, it wouldn't kill ya to be a little nicer."

England rolled his eyes. "And it wouldn't kill you to eat like a regular human being. Do you even have a chance to taste the garbage you eat on a daily basis?"

America huffed, indignantly. "Yeah, whatever man." But his expression grew serious after a moment. "Hey, Britain? Are you sure you're alright?"

England nodded. "Of course. I've just... had some difficulty sleeping is all. A good night sleep and I'll be right as rain." He sounded far more confident then he actually felt.

"Really? You can't sleep?"

England shook his head. It wasn't that he couldn't sleep... it was just whenever he did sleep... "I've just... been having some strange dreams lately."

"You mean like nightmares? What about?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure." No matter how hard he tried, he never could remember what the dreams were about. But it was the same every night. He'd wake up, heart pounding in terror at something he couldn't remember, covered in sweat. "It's not important. I'm alright now, thank you for your help."

"If you're sure. See ya." And with that, America casually strode out of the room.

England sighed and listened as America's footsteps got further away, followed by the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing.

Finishing his tea, England placed the cup in the sink. He was far too exhausted to do any dishes now.

He'd handle it in the morning.

A deep, noisy yawn escaped him and he felt the call of pillows and bed sheets. He peeled off his jacket, his pants, and his tie. He didn't even bother putting on his usual plaid pajamas and collapsed into the bed.

An uneasy feeling churned in the pit of his stomach.

_Let tonight's rest be a pleasant one..._

England opened his eyes, a little surprised. He hadn't remembered closing them...

Examining his surroundings, horror crept through him.

He was at the bottom step of a long, spiral staircase that went upwards into the reddish haze above. The walls were adorned with various items, from the seemingly innocent paintings of flowers to patterns created with bones, molding into the surface. Sometimes it appears as if the hands were reaching out from the wall itself, as if becoming for rescue. There were mirrors everywhere, often with reddish water that ran down to the tiles in an unending torrent.

His memories flooded back, as they had every night previous since this ordeal began. Always rushing back to him in sleep but vanishing as soon as he woke up.

"Bollocks."

The giggling erupted once again. Adrenaline rushed through him as England forced himself up, spinning around to face the abomination he knew was standing behind him. Grinning as usual.

"Welcome back, we've been waiting for you~!"

England forgot to breathe as his eyes confirmed the scene before him.

There were six of them in all, faces familiar yet different from the ones he knew so well. And in front of them all, stood _him_.

He was the same height as England but he appeared taller due to standing on the steps. His hair was similarly cut only lighter, almost platinum blonde, his eyes were bright blue. His clothes were crisp and clean. His ridiculous bow tie perfectly pristine.

So deceptively similar.


	2. Chapter 2

This perpetual nightmare began about two weeks ago, possibly even before that...

**England started noticing strange things happening around the house.**

**His favorite books would vanish for several days only to reappear in their proper place. Objects he'd never seen before suddenly laying in plain sight. Usually simple, innocuous things. A broken pocket watch or an empty cup, still warm, laying on the counter.**

**At first he'd assumed it must be one of the others. He wasn't the only one in the home, after all, and that line of reasoning was perfectly logical. Though whenever he'd approach them on the subject he'd always get the same reactions.**

**Wales pushed his pale blond hair back from his face, frowning thoughtfully. "No, it wasn't me."**

**Scotland would scoff then be as impolite as he was allowed. "What do ah look like, a damn maid? I dinnae know a thing about it."**

**Northern Ireland would shrug. "Maybe someone's playing a prank on you." He grinned, mischievously. "You know how those fairies can get."**

**He wouldn't be surprised of this kind of behavior from North, though it seemed unlikely. By now he'd have escalated the pranks or else just given up. As for fairies being responsible, he'd considered that also. They could be particularly playful but something didn't seem quite right about that either.**

**The household too had begun to feel odd though he hadn't noticed it at first. Every now and then a chill would run down his spine and he'd shiver involuntarily, or the hair on the back of his neck would stand on end. Some moments he could swear someone was watching him, though he contributed these feelings to be the result of stress. **A strange aura seemed to pervade the household ******that he'd never felt before... **

**After several days of the strange occurrences, the dreams began.  
**

**But they were far more than just dreams.**

**England's eyes snapped open and his entire body jerked upright. He felt as if he had tripped or fallen. After his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light and new surrounds he noticed the strange feeling in the air. Thick in his lungs and on his tongue. He recognized it immediately: magic.**

**"Wh-what?" His entire body felt stiff and sore, like waking up the day after vigorous physical labor.**

**"Ah-ha! It finally worked! Marvelous!"**

**England blinked, unable to comprehend the sight in front of him.**

**A man stood in front of him. His eyes were bright blue and he grinned widely down at him. The man wore dark pink sweater-vest over a light pink button up shirt and neat slacks. It was all accented by a bright blue bow tie. The man looked absolutely ludicrous. But all that paled in comparison to the fact that this man... looked exactly like him, almost exactly. It was him. Some details were different and his demeanor was off, but it was an undeniably close resemblance.**

**"What!? Who are bloody hell are you?" He stammered.**

**The other him frowned in distaste. "Do you have to be so vulgar? You could just ask nicely."**

**England stood, eyes darting around the strange setting he'd found himself in. It looked to be a lounge decorated with lavishly bright colors that clashed together and made England's eyes hurt just looking at them. It was a fairly well furnished room with large, plush chairs and sofa. It all looked normal. Gaudy, most assuredly, but normal enough. And yet this place was filled with dread, the same dread that had been infecting his home.**

**This place made him uneasy, ill, and he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it at once.**

**"You... are you the ones behind all that nonsense in my home? Have... have you been in my house!?"**

**The other him smiled like a child who had been caught doing something naughty. "Not exactly. Though that was my intention. I've been trying to get into your home for _quite_ a while now." His smile faded, leaving a thoughtful expression. "Unfortunately, it seems getting there will take a bit more effort." He was eying England now like a carnivorous animal might at a bloody slice of meat.**

**Yes, England definitely wanted to leave. NOW. Whatever type of magic this was he wanted no further part of it. He felt himself bump into something, nearly knocking it over. He caught it just before it hit the ground.**

**"Be careful with that!" The other him snapped, he ran to England before shoving him aside.**

**It was a mirror, a long standing mirror. It looked just like the one England had standing in his room. The other him stood it up again, perfectly in the middle... of a large sigil drawn on the floor. The sigil on the floor was not unlike the summoning circles he himself used. This was undoubtedly the remains of the ritual that had brought him to this place.**

**Eying the mirror, he gasped as he realized what was reflecting in it. Not the room he currently stood in, but his own room. He could see himself lying in bed, asleep. The lamp was on and a book lay open on the sheets.**

**_I'm asleep. Is this all... a dream?_**

**"This isn't a dream."**

**The other him snapped him out of his daze. England backed away, getting some distance between them.**

**"You _are_ asleep, but this is certainly not a dream."**

**No, it wasn't. Certain of the danger now, England prepared himself for a fight. "Who are you and what is your purpose?"**

**"Come now Arthur! Surely you must have an idea!" He giggled.**

**England scowled at the use of his 'human' name.**

**The other him made no attempt to come closer to him but moved to the table to pour himself a cup of tea. "I'm me. And I'm you, too, Arthur."**

**England was losing his patience. "Give me a straight answer!"**

**The annoying git hummed thoughtfully to himself, still smiling, and stirring the contents of his tea cup. "I suppose for now, to avoid confusion, you can call me Oliver." He seemed to flinch at the name, as if he didn't particularly care for it. "But I am you." He added hastily.**

**"Don't start that again you bloody wanker!" He snapped.**

**Oliver's head lulled to the side. "You can't lie to me. You can feel it. The connection between us."**

**England felt disgust towards this man, total and complete revulsion and rejection. It was instant and innate. He felt... like he_ did_ know him. Looking at this man reminded him of... terrible things. Things he'd done in the past. All the stupid mistakes... And England hated him for it.**

**"What do you want?" He repeated voice carefully emotionless.**

**"Come closer and I'll show you." Oliver took a step toward him.**

**"Stay back!" England snapped.**

**Oliver took another sip of his tea and placed in back on the table. England caught a glance at its contents... immediately reasoning that it was just the dim light that made the liquid in the cup look so red.**

**Oliver licked his lips then began to walk forward.**

**"I told you to stay back!" England immediately backed away, something inside him screaming for him to run away.**

**"Don't be like that." Oliver giggled. "After all the work I've done to set this up. It won't hurt. I think. It probably won't hurt at all."**

**England scanned the room, looking for something to use as a weapon. He spotted a knife on the table next to a large, flowery cake. He darted for the table, grabbing the knife and pointing it out in front of him.**

**Oliver stopped but was still laughing, looking very amused. "What are you so scared of?"**

**"Tell Me. What. You. Want." He spat.**

**Oliver sighed before glancing at the mirror. "Your world is so bright. So lighthearted. You and your fellows truly have no idea how good you have it, to live in such a world." His eyes returned to England. "Our world on the other hand, is dark. All the horrible things in the world come here. Come from here. I don't know if it was always this way... but I want more."**

**"What does that have to do with anything!?"**

**Oliver lifted his hands. "Light and dark. Two halves of a whole. Singular and separated." He brought his hands together. "Waiting to be made whole."**

**England felt his stomach churn. He knew what had just been said was terrible and yet the reason why hadn't entirely clicked yet in his mind.**

**"But to do that I'll need your help! Just for a little bit before-"**

**"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" He shouted.**

**Oliver looked puzzled. "You don't want to?"**

**"Of course not! You're completely barmy!"**

**Oliver looked genuinely confused now. "You don't... now that's odd. Because it's all I've thought about since I discovered you." His eyes were fixed on England, dark with desire. "You could say... It's been a little obsession of mine."  
**

**"I refuse! You hear me?!" England snapped. "I'll have nothing more to do with you, or this world for that matter!"**

**A cry escaped his throat as Oliver rushed at him, grabbed hold of him, and they tumbled onto the floor. Oliver's hands clasped around his neck. England gasped for air, squirming under his assailant until the struggle abruptly ended when Oliver collapsed, slumping onto England's body. It happened so quickly, England wasn't sure what had just happened.  
**

**After pushing the body off him, England was shaking as his eyes locked onto the knife he had been holding. The knife was now lodged in Oliver's stomach. England pushed himself to his feet and steadied himself on the sofa. Looking down he grimaced at the blood that stained his clothing.**

**"Ha... Ha ha..." Suddenly, a torrent of wheezing chuckles burst from the slumped figure on the floor. "Ha ha ha! Heh heh! Hahahaaaa~"**

**Oliver sat up and reached for the knife, it was pulled out of his stomach with a sickening wet smack. Oliver held the knife in his right hand, both were covered in blood. Oliver stared at it, laughing like a lunatic.**

**England ran out of the room as fast as he could.**

**That was how it began. He spent the next eight hours running. A series of narrow escapes and close calls. Hours of terror, exhaustion, and desperation. The world he found himself in was just as twisted. The place seemed to function with a different set of laws then his own. He was often lead in circles, streets or passageways would change on him. Doors he'd just closed would open to another, entirely new area. The further he got the more run down and twisted the world became.**

**There were no people either. No normal humans were anywhere to be seen. He never saw any other living things in that place... Just him and his double. Who chased after him as though this was nothing more then a lively game of tag.**

**England slumped against the wall. His body and spirit had been pushed to the limit and a method of escape was no where in sight.**

**"I've found you~!"**

**Oliver stood at the end of the hall, shirt and pants caked in dried blood. England looked over his surroundings, hoping for another door... but he was trapped, boxed in. There was no escape now.**

**"No need to fuss." Oliver cooed as he came closer. England grabbed a blunt object, not even bothering to take a closer look at it, and prepared to fight for his life. Oliver paused and frowned. "I honestly don't understand you... how can you not feel it? How could you not want to...?" For a moment, England almost believed his double was going to start crying. "How could you...?"**

**Oliver turned to face him again, eyes wide with rage and teeth bared. There was no doubt at all that this man was insane. "How could you? How_ could_ you!? _HOW COULD Y_-"  
**

**He woke up. **

**England was back in his bed, covered with sweat and heart pounding. For a single second he recalled it all and leaped from the bed. But before his feet had even touched the floor the memories were gone, vanished like smoke.**

**And so the cycle repeated itself.**

**He opened his eyes and dread surged through him. At first he could only spit and cough as he was face first in sand. After wiping the sand from his eyes he was assaulted by a putrid oder that made him gag.  
**

**The smell was coming from the water. He was by the ocean... but the water wasn't that beautiful sea-green color but a deep reddish brown. England stumbled away, anything to get away from that smell. It was the smell of rot and decay, akin to rancid roadkill.**

**When he was finally a decent distance from the shore line, he paused to figure out where in god's name he was...**

**It all came rushing back.**

**"No... no! Not again!?" England's mind raced. This was insane! It was just a dream-**

**A dream. He was dreaming right now. If he could wake up, he could get out! That's what happened the night before!**

**England tried willing himself awake but nothing came of it. Pinching himself also produced no results. Soon he degraded into smacking his face until his cheeks were raw and stinging, likely bruised. **

**England finally gave up on it. There was no way he would wake up on his own. **

**It wasn't long until Oliver appeared and gave chase but this time, he wasn't alone.**

**This time France was with him.**

**Or, rather, the other France.**

**He looked similar to the France he knew and despised on occasion. But more rough, less care in his appearance. His hair was tangled, with untidy facial hair, and his clothes that had no indication of style or flare that the France he knew would pride himself on. He was rather lanky, like France, but seemed malnourished with sunken cheeks and pale skin. He was always smoking and that always gave him away, he never ran after England either so that was a relief.**

**He survived another night.**

**The third night, same process, but with a new player. Canada.**

**But this boy bore none of the soft, gentle manner that England associated with Canada. His appearance was gruff like the other France and, likewise, was always smoking. But this Canada was far less laid back then the other France. He had England running at top speed, chasing him down with a damn hockey stick of all things! He spat and swore, but seemed entirely apathetic of the whole ordeal.  
**

**Still, England won that night.**

**Night four. China with a meat cleaver. There were several moments that night when England was almost caught. If it weren't for that version of China liking to play with his... prey, it would have been over.  
**

**Night five. A Russia who never smiled and carried a sickle. He made the Russia back home seem like a cuddly teddy bear in comparison.  
**

**Night six...**

**America.**

**He barely got a look at him before this America swung at him with a baseball bat covered with nails. As he ran away the other America screamed at him. Telling England all the gory details on how he was going to murder him for having the audacity to run.**

**He had outran them all for six long, terrible, nights... but he had never seen them gathered in one place.**

Until now.

England didn't wait for them to speak and took off. Running in the opposite direction. They hadn't caught him yet and he certainly wasn't going to make it easy for them.

He reached for the door when something caught his arm. He yelped in pain as he was thrown back and hit the wall.

Glancing up, he saw two daggers pinning him to the wall and cutting deep into the flesh of his arm. He grabbed the small blades and pulled desperately in an attempt to free himself. He didn't notice the approaching figure until he was already moving in to strike him.

A quick decisive punch to his chest left him gasping for air. Another dagger pressed into the flesh of his neck.

"You've wasted enough time. Try running from me again and I'll break your legs."

England gaped at the sight. Never imagining he'd hear something like that come from Italy.

Alike in face but not exact. England could see the lust for blood in his eyes. A look he could never associate with that simple-minded coward.

He spotted Germany and Japan as they approached with the others.

Oliver was practically skipping as he came closer with that same damn smile and giggling all the way.

Never before had England wanted to throttle someone so thoroughly.

"Looks like all that fuss was for nothing." Oliver sighed, feigning sympathy.

England's eyes caught America... the other America approaching him with his baseball bat, ready to- "Fuck this."

With no time to react, the baseball bat collided with England's head-


	3. Chapter 3

It didn't occur to America to call Britain about coming over until he was already at his door.

Whatever, he could use a few more surprises in his life.

He knocked on the door, stood there for about ten seconds, then began to mash the doorbell.

"Yo! Britain! Come on dude, I know you're home!"

He continued to slam his thumb on the doorbell. A twinge of confusion sprang in him. Usually Britain would have ripped the door open and screamed at him by now. And if not Britain then _someone_ would have opened the door.

The door opened suddenly and America smirked as he spotted those eyebrows right away. He grinned waiting for the torrent of curses.

But they never came.

"Alfred? What a pleasant surprise!"

A little disappointed, and a little surprised by the use of his human name, America looked to Britain-

And his jaw dropped. "What the hell happened to you!?"

Britain looked nothing like his usual self wearing a bright pink shirt with a sky blue bow tie. And his eyes, which were supposed to be green, were now a bright blue. Since when did Britain start wearing colored contacts? It all looked so... wrong.

And he was smiling. Britain never smiled... usually never smiled.

Britain's head lulled to the side, smile still intact. "Do you like it? I decided to take your advice to heart!"

America gave it some thought, before scratching his head in confusion. He didn't remember giving England advice. Especially advice telling him to start dressing like a queen.

(Not that there was anything wrong with that)

"Uh, advice?" He asked, assuming he must have forgotten.

"You said that I should try to be nicer."

The smell that wafted from the house made the home seem like a bakery, making America's mouth water and slightly distracting him from what Britain was saying. "Uh... yeah."

"So, is there something I could help you with my dear boy?"

America cleared his throat. "Uh, I wanted to check up on you... you know. After what happened last week..."

Britain's eyes widened slightly. "You were... worried about me?"

America laughed loud and slightly higher pitched than usual. "What, me, Worried? I don't know the meaning of the word!" He laughed loudly, embarrassment causing his cheeks to turn a slight shade of pink.

Britain seemed to fidget, eyes darting around, face flushed. He looked like he wasn't sure what to do with himself... or maybe he was high. With how weird he was acting nothing would have surprised America.

Britain suddenly grabbed his arm, leading America inside. "Oh, but enough about that! Would you like a cupcake?"

America remembered the cupcake from last time. "Yeah!"

Britain giggled, sending a chill up America's spine. "I knew you would!" He was sat down on the couch in the living room as Britain turned to face him. "One moment, please." He fluttered away toward the kitchen before returning with a large tray full of colorful cupcakes he set the tray in front of America. "Have as many as you want!"

America brightened at the sight and eagerly took a cupcake. He began eating, greedily, at first. Then he noticed Britain's eyes on him. He looked eager and... America couldn't quite place that look in his eye. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

America swallowed hard. "Um, are you gonna have some?"

Britain shook his head. "Oh no, I'm quite full. Are they good? Do you like them?" His eyes glinted anxiously for America's response.

He nodded. "Um... yeah, it's really good."

That seemed to be exactly what Britain wanted to hear because he beamed, flashing his teeth in a wide grin that seriously gave America the creeps. As a matter of fact, everything about Britain today was creeping him out.

"I knew you'd like them!" He giggled. "I actually made them for the boys but I'm afraid they didn't appreciate them."

America paused as he grabbed another cupcake. Boys? Did he mean Scotland and Wales? "Where are they anyway?" He asked while peeling away the paper cup.

"Out." Britain replied.

"Oh." America went to shove the rest of the cupcake into his mouth but stopped mid bite. "Wait, you made these?"

"Yes, I did!"

But they weren't even a little bit burnt. "I thought you said you didn't make the cupcakes?"

Britain leaned forward slightly, eyes still trained on America, he laced his hands together and crossed his legs. "I was worried you wouldn't try it if I told you." He sighed. "Not many people like to try my food. It pleases me to see how much you enjoy them so eat as many as you like!"

America nodded. "No problem there, dude." Shoving the rest of the cupcake in his mouth trying to ignore the shivers running up and down his spine as Britain eyed him up and down, watching him eat.

Suddenly Britain stood and walked around the couch. America felt a moment of relief as those eyes where no longer scrutinizing his every move before that moment was extinguished by arms suddenly wrapping around him from behind. Resting on his shoulders and curling around him neck.

America went stiff and nearly choked on the cupcake. "D-dude what are you doing?"

He heard a giggle and felt the arms tighten slightly. "You used to call me brother, right? Is there something wrong with hugging my cute little brother?"

This was seriously creepy, he preferred grumpy Britain any day of the week. And what was he talking about calling him brother? Britain had always told him to call him 'Britain' and not 'big brother'.

Still they were brothers, more or less. "I... I guess not...?"

Britain hummed thoughtfully. "As much as I'd love to stay here and play with you Alfred, I'm afraid I've got some preparations to finish..."

Did he just say 'play'? What the hell did that mean? Must have just imagined it. "Uh, preparations?"

"I'm going to be hosting a party! Of course you'll come, won't you?" The grip on his neck tightened ever so slightly.

"Um... sure Britain, no problem."

America felt warm breath on his ear. "Really? I'm glad~!"

It was when he felt Britain's cheek nuzzling his own that he'd suddenly had far too much, masculinity suddenly feeling _very _threatened. He jerked up and out of the other man's grip and off the couch.

"Get the fuck off me! What's wrong with-!?"

He fully intended to scream at Britain some more, but was caught off guard by the murderous glare in the other man's eyes. "_Watch_ your _mouth_."

Britain looked like he was going to kick the crap out of him but, as quickly as it came, it vanished. Britain smiled again but it seemed incredibly fake and forced.

"U-um... yeah... sorry about that... Britain..."

"You just be sure it doesn't happen again." Britain's voice was even and cheerful.

"Sure."

Britain pushed himself from the couch. "You can have more cupcakes if you like but I need to get back to work. It was a pleasure to see you Alfred and I look forward to seeing you at my party."

America nodded as Britain walked out of the room. "S-sure..."

America eyes the platter of cupcakes, his appetite for sweets gone...

His appetite for answers on the other hand.

America had never seen Britain act so strangely. Never. He needed to find out what was going on.

He headed for the door, pausing to grab another cupcake (They really were very good.) Then headed for the door, feet stomping more loudly then necessary. He opened the door and turned around. "Okay, I'm leaving. See yaaaa! Later! Byyye. Goodbyyye." He slammed the door loudly and then crept as silently as he could away and listened for Britain.

He heard Britain move to the front door and heard the click of the door locking. Then he went back to the living room, then the kitchen. After that it was a little harder to figure out where we went. But he cupped his hands around his ears, listening carefully.

Suddenly he heard a muffled voice call out.

He nearly jumped from the sudden shout. It sounded almost like a scream. A horrible thought came to mind.

_What if Britain's house was haunted?_

Another horrible realization came to him.

The sound came from the basement.

He heard Britain move from the kitchen and head down the hall and, from the sound of it, moved upstairs.

America took a deep breath. He had to do this. He was the hero! And if Britain was in trouble he was definitely not gonna let some (super-creepy-pants-wettingly-terrifying) ghost stop him!

Careful not to make too much noise, he headed for the back of the home. The basement entrance was just beyond the kitchen, leading down a series of stairs into Britain's creepy little occult dungeon. America hated that place and avoided it whenever possible. But this was serious business!

He gulped as he opened the door, staring into the darkness below. He could barely see faint flickering lights. With a deep breath he took a step forward-

A Warm hand clasped his chest and a searing pain suddenly shot through his back. He tried to jerk away but was held in place.

"You naughty, naughty boy~" Britain's voice sang into his ear.

"B-Britain!? What- AAUuGH!" He screamed as a sharp edge in his back was twisted.

Britain's voice cooed in her ear, sickeningly sweet to the point it was condescending. "One mustn't go snooping in places one doesn't belong. It's not polite."

America was pulled into the body behind him, Britain's buried his face in the crook of America's neck.

"He was a fool to let you slip out of his hands." Britain continued quietly. "I, on the other hand, hate giving up my toys." America redoubled his efforts to escape, earning him another twist of the object in his back. "Yes... in fact... I'd rather break my toys then ever let them leave."

Suddenly America was pushed forward, screaming all the way, he tumbled down the stairs before his head slammed on the concrete below.

He opened his eyes groaning in pain. His vision blurry as he spotted England with a large knife at the top of the stairs, grinning evilly.

"Britain... what the hell!?" He managed to choke out.

"A-America!"

America's head jerked to the side as he caught sight of Wales, Scotland, and Northern Ireland. They were all wrapped with chains, beaten and desperate.

"That's not England, America!" Wales gasped. "That is NOT England!"

America tried to stand as he heard the imposter take a step forward, giggling in anticipation.

The imposter closed the door behind him and began to descend the staircase, grinning from ear to ear.

"Who are you? What have you done to the real Britain!?" America stood, ignoring the pain in his back. As the fake Britain came closer, America kept his distance eying the bloody knife. Whoever this guy was, he was strong, but no way was this shrimp stronger then America! He wouldn't catch him off guard again.

The fake Britain reached the bottom of the stairs, grinning. "He's just sleeping. Can't have him interfering with our plans, can we?"

"Answer the question!" America snapped, fearing for the safety of his friend, brother, whatever.

If this guy had hurt Britain...

But the fake Britain just shrugged. "You may call me Oliver, if you must." Fake Britain lifted the knife then placed a finger on the flat surface, running across the smooth surface then eyed the blood on his fingers in delight. "As for Arthur... He's just sleeping is all. If you behave, like a good little boy... perhaps I'll let you see him."

"Forget that!" Took a moment to look at the other prisoners. They were bound by chains, busting them out would not be easy and he couldn't worry about it with this creep in the room.

The other Britain just kept grinning, then took a few steps toward him.

America took a step back ready for a fight but the fake Britain just raised his hands and giggled lightly. "Come now, Alfred, don't tell me you're scared?"

"I'm not scared of anything!" America spat, chest puffing out in bravado.

Fake Britain just shook his head, smiling knowingly, then moved away from America across the room.

"Don't you walk away from-" America went after him, ready to kick that little imposter's ass-

"America be careful!"

"Stop!"

"The little shit did something to the-"

The shouts of the other hostages were silenced when the floor under America lit up as soon as his feet made contact with the scribbles on the floor. For a moment, he was blinded and he heard the fake Britain laugh out loud.

When the light vanished America rubbed his eyes, blinking the spots out of his eyes. "What the hell was tha-"

As his sight returned he realized that there was someone else in the room with them now. His eyes widened, unable to comprehend what he was looking at...

He stood at the same height as America, similarly built, with tanned skin. He ran a gloved hand through reddish-brown hair and smirked at him. His dark red eyes flashed in the candlelight behind his sunglasses.

America's mouth fell open.

It... was him. This guy looked like him.

But it was more than just the looks that made America's skin crawl. Whoever this guy was, he made America want to puke just being in his presence. All he wanted to do was get out of there. A voice in his head screaming 'get away from him'. It didn't make any sense. This guy hadn't even said anything yet.

"Well if it isn't the fat ass himself!" The fake him sneered.

Okay, yes, he officially hated him now.

"Hey! Screw you!"

That's when he noticed the bat. The fake him has holding a wooden baseball bat... the end of which was covered in nails and... was that blood?

The fake him looked to the fake Britain. "You're early."

"Just a small bump in the road." The fake Britain glanced at America. "I'll need your help getting him settled."

Fake him snorted. "Yeah, whatever."

The fake him suddenly swung the bat at him. America jerked back, just barley dodging. He hissed at the pain in his back from the stab wound but powered through it. No way would this fake get the jump on him. He was America damn it! The real deal!

He lifted his fists ready to knock that assholes block off. This time he saw the bat coming, dodging again and giving a punch right in that jerk's stupid face.

America laughed and punching him again. "Yeah! Suck it!"

The other him smirked and landed a decisive kick to America's crotch. America let out a yelp and fell to his knees, clutching between his legs. America opened his mouth to scream at him but was floored when the fake America brought the bat down on his head.

America was stunned, vision gone, blood tricked across his face where the nails had broken his skin.

"Well done!" Oliver clapped. "Now help me tie him up, will you?"

"Whatever." Allen took the bat and slammed it down on America's head again. He glared down at the crumpled man on the floor. "Pathetic."

America made one last try to stand but collapsed, world fading to black.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I know that everyone in the dub calls England 'Britain'. Honestly, I'm not sure why it's not one or the other here. ^^;**

**Anyway, this is kind of how I see America's personality. He's loud and can say some really stupid and offensive crap sometimes, but it usually doesn't come from a negative place. He's just not very good at taking other people's feelings into account (Most of the time, he has his moments, and I'm sure he plays up his cluelessness) **


	4. Chapter 4

This was a bad idea.

Germany was already scolding himself as he approached England's home. He glanced down at the invitation he had received early yesterday morning.

_**My friends and colleagues,**_

_**I apologize for my absence and humbly request an**_

_**opportunity to make it up to you.**_

_**Therefore, I invite you to a party at my home.**_

_**I have a wonderful gift for each of you.**_

Germany let out a small, resigned sigh. While he and England were on far better terms in these modern times he honestly still wasn't all that fond of the man. That wasn't to say that he hated him, not at all. He simply preferred the company of others.

_**Free food and drink will be provided.**_

Once again, Germany scolded himself. Allowing himself to be so easily lured in by the prospect of free beer. Though he had been concerned about England's 'episode' the other day. He figured it was worth checking up on him for that, if nothing else.

_**Though I am sorry to say, none of it will be English cuisine.**_

Well, at least the food would be edible.

_**I look forward to seeing you there!**_

_**England**_

"Germany! Heey Germany~!"

Warm hands wrapped around his arm. He didn't have to look to see who was now jumping up and down beside him in excitement. At the sight of the excitable little Italian he was filled with the familiar mix of affection and annoyance.

"_Guten tag,_ Italy."

Italy beamed and Germany noticed another figure approaching silently.

"_Konnichiwa_, Mr. Germany. I see you also received an invitation."

Germany nodded, noting the slightly reluctant hitch in his friend's voice. Even these days Japan tended to be a bit of a recluse, preferring to stay home then to go out and socialize. Italy, on the other hand, held no such reluctance.

"I'm so excited! I've never been invited to a party at England's house before! Aren't you excited Germany?"

Germany sighed and nodded. "_Ja_... _Ja_. Let's get this over with, then."

He approached the front door and began to knock. Before he could knock the final time, the door swung open revealing England.

"Welcome, my friends! I'm so pleased to see you!"

Germany jerked away from the door. He was appalled by the pink and blue abomination that stood in the doorway. "What on earth!?"

Italy took England's outstretched hands shaking it with great enthusiasm. "_Ciao_, Mr. England! You look really funny!"

England giggled. "I wanted to try something new, what do you think? Do you like it?"

Italy smiled, completely unaware of his friend's discomfort. "Vee~ you look nicer?" Italy supplied.

England seemed pleased with the response. "Thank you, Feliciano."

Germany felt a surge of indignation at the sudden use of Italy's human name. Human names were rarely used by nations and using them without permission was generally considered in bad taste.

"But what am I doing? Come inside, silly beans!"

Italy followed England inside leaving Germany and Japan to cast uncertain glances at one another before following their companion inside.

Inside the home was a festive display. Bright decorations were hung all around and a large banquet table full of, admittedly, delicious looking food from many countries (Except England's). Italy gasped in delight and ran straight for the table that held a serving of pasta.

"This is quite an elaborate affair." Japan noted.

Germany nodded. "You're right. I don't trust it."

Japan didn't reply, he didn't need to, he just nodded solemnly.

Glancing around the room he saw China and Russia had already arrived. China looking increasingly uncomfortable and Russia looking... very pleased. He was smiling and seemed to actually be enjoying himself. Germany quickly approached them.

"_Privet_ Germany!" Russia called, cheerily.

Germany nodded, a little uncomfortable at how happy the other nation was. "Russia. China." He replied in a curt greeting. "Do you know what is going on with England?"

Russia's smile faded, just a bit. "He is different, _da_." But the smile returned. "But I do not mind. This is first time I've been invited to party! Most times I stay home or come anyway!"

China ignored Russia. "Something wrong with England. Even by western standards."

Germany glanced around the room. "Where is France and America?"

"France is running late and I haven't been able to reach America." A soft voice answered.

Germany turned to where the voice had come from. He was surprised to realize that someone had been standing right behind him. Germany hadn't even heard him walk up.

"Ah..." He knew the man standing there but the name escaped him- "I see..."

The person looked down, biting his lip. "Canada."

Right, he remembered now. "Oh, yes. It's good to see you Canada." He couldn't help feeling a little awkward.

Canada's face fell and he dropped his gaze down to the floor. Germany saw his mouth move but couldn't hear what he muttered.

Germany was about to apologize but tensed as he spotted England approaching with a tray of cupcakes. "Evening gents, enjoying yourselves?"

They all muttered the appropriate confirmations as Germany cleared his throat. "Is America coming?"

England smiled. "Oh, he's already here. He's just helping me with all your surprises." He lifted the tray higher. "Would you like one?"

Germany frowned but took one anyway, feeling obligated. "_Danke_."

There was a knock at the door. "Oh! That must be France. Fashionably late, no doubt." England placed the tray aside. "Please, help yourselves. Eat, drink!"

The sudden reminder of drink had Germany glance towards the tables and, sure enough, there was the beer. Perhaps he was just overreacting. It couldn't hurt to have a few beers and enjoy the food.

He decided to do just that and began pouring himself a beer as France entered the room. He approached Germany right away.

"You're late." Germany muttered. It was then he noticed the mortified look on France's face. "What's the matter?"

"Where is _Angleterre_?" He hissed, glancing around suspiciously.

"He answered the door for you, didn't he?"

France's eyes narrowed and he glanced back towards the entrance. "Non. That was not…"

Before Germany could press on what France meant Italy approached. "Big brother France!"

Italy ran to France and began to chat incessantly.

"This is so much fun! Vee~" Italy was ecstatic. "Don't you think so, too? We never do this! It's always those boring meetings. We never just get together and have a party with everyone, right? Like we're all happy friends together!"

"Yes... it's very nice." France replied with a painfully fake smile.

As Italy and France continued their conversation, the suspicion that had been dogging Germany since he had arrived reared its head again. It was true that England was acting strange and looked... different, but what did that mean? How could it possibly be that the man he saw at the door wasn't England? And if he wasn't England, then who was he?

Germany knew coming here was a bad idea.


	5. Chapter 5

"Kesesesese~"

As he jimmied open the back door, Prussia couldn't help but chuckle at his awesomeness.

At first he'd refused to come to England's unawesome party because the invitation was only addressed to Germany, but shortly after his little brother left he decided to crash the party anyway.

Gilbird left his perch on Prussia's head and let out a chirp. Prussia shushed him, not wanting to be caught quite yet.

_I'll show those losers what happens when you think you can leave out the awesome Prussia!_

It was then that Prussia heard a soft, barely audible grunt. He was silent for a moment, wondering if he'd just imagined it.

It happened again.

"What is that?"

He heard it again and realized the sound was coming from the basement.

A chill went down his spine but he quickly got over it because of how awesome he is.

He considered just ignoring it and looking for his brother but his curiosity got the better of him. After looking around the kitchen, he found a door that led to a set of stairs that went down into the basement. Prussia moved slowly as to keep the creak of the stairs to a minimum.

"You can cry if you want to, pussy." He heard someone mutter under their breath.

Was that America?

Prussia frowned. He'd met America a long time ago back during the revolutionary war when Prussia whipped his ass into shape. The voice was right... but it didn't sound like him.

"Come on, I know you want to." There was a soft laugh. "Come on 'hero'!" There were a few more grunts.

Peaking around the corner Prussia nearly gasped at what he saw.

"What the hell!?"

There were two Americas? How was that possible!?

The heads of both America's turned to him. One glared at him with disdain, the others eyes widened in desperation and let out a smothered yell.

One of the Americas was tied down with heavy chains and gagged. His shirt was missing and Prussia would see bruises and cuts on his chest and arms. Dried blood caked his face and hair.

The other America stood over the other America, hands clenched into fists. He seems to have been beating the other.

"Who the fuck are you supposed to be?" The other America spat.

Prussia sneered at the fake. "I could ask you the same question, loser!"

Prussia took a step forward but was stopped at the sound of muffled shouting. Three other nations were tied up and screaming at him through their gags. Looking back at the bound America he saw him shaking his head and looking down at the ground.

Following America's gaze he noticed strange scribbles on the floor in the middle of a large circle.

"Shut the fuck up!" The other America hissed. Keeping his voice down.

Prussia wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but he got the message. Don't touch the floor.

"What's the matter? Scared to come fight the awesome me? I don't blame you! Kesesesese!"

The other America glared at Prussia. "Tsk, me? Scared of you? Please! You're not even a country anymore! I'll kick your ass!"

Prussia threw his head back in the most loud and obnox- awesome laugh he could manage. "I'd like to see you try little baby!"

"Shut up!" The other America hissed.

Prussia's smirk only grew wider, seeing an opportunity. He wanted Prussia to be quiet? Prussia would turn up the volume! "MAKE ME! Come on little looooser! What's wrong baaaby~ Go home and cry to mama!"

The other America charged at him but Prussia was ready, dodging the first attack and kicking the fake in the stomach. Then brought his hands together before bringing them fists down on the back of the fake's head. If this fake was as strong as the real America then Prussia would have to play dirty to win.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the real America struggling and squirming, trying to break the chains on his arms and chest.

Prussia didn't let up he brought a barrage of fast and powerful blows on the fallen fake.

Something wrapped around his ankle and Prussia was thrown to the floor, pulled down before the fake delivered a punch to his stomach that knocked the wind out of him and left him gasping. The fake _was _as strong as the real thing.

Hands clasped around his neck and began to squeeze Prussia gasped for air and clawed desperately at the hands around his throat. The other America glared down at him, laughing.

"What's the matter? You were all laughs before!"

Prussia winced... and saw something flutter over the head of the other America.

_Gilbird...?_

The little bird flew over his head and disappeared from Prussia's sight. Before he could look to see what Gilbird was up to his head was slammed into the hard floor.

"Come on fucker! Laugh. It. Up!"

The struggling went on and Prussia could feel himself losing consciousness, his vision blurring into shadows. He kicked fruitlessly, closing his eyes.

No way, he was Prussia! No way... was he...

…get beat by this little...

He opened his eyes just in time to see a figure bring down a bat on the fake America's head.

The hands around his neck released and Prussia took several sudden, deep breaths, pushing the fake's body off of him.

The real America brought the bat down on the fake one last time.

Gilbird fell on Prussia's lap, dropping keys into his lap and letting out an exhausted chirp.

The next thing Prussia knew America was running up the steps.

"Hey! Where are you going!?"

But America was already gone.

"Ungrateful punk." He muttered. Then looked over to the other prisoners who groaned at him desperately.

"_Ja_, I get it. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Grabbing the keys he went to free the others, stepping over the fake America and careful not to touch the scribbles on the floor.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Not gonna lie, Prussia is my favorite character. XD**

** I think people need to give him a little more credit. He's not a pervert, for one, France takes that prize (Note I said pervert, NOT rapist.) He's loud and obnoxious (And funny). He likes rileing people up, which actually reminds me a lot of my brother. I think he knows how much of an ass he is and he even plays it up in this chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6

England ushered the group into another room but Germany paused for a moment, turning back to the room behind him. Italy noticed and returned to Germany's side, smiling as if nothing was strange about the situation.

"What's the matter Germany?" Italy asked innocently.

After examining the room behind him Germany shook his head. "It's nothing."

_For a moment, I could have sworn I heard Prussia..._

Germany just shrugged and followed the group. He must have just been imagining it.

When Germany caught up with his colleagues he saw France approaching England. The room England had brought them to was completely empty. Lacking chairs, tables, or anything on the walls. The only thing in the room was a thin rug that covered the hardwood floor.

"I think it is time you stopped playing around, _oui_?" France glared at England with disdain. "It is time to tell us who you truly are."

"Whatever do you mean?" England asked, innocently. "I'm England, I'm Arthur."

France looked less than impressed, his lip curling in disgust. "I have known _Angleterre_ for many years. You cannot fool me."

To Germany's surprise, England began giggling. Something he did far, far too often now. He walked away from them, hands behind his back. The others gave uncertain glances at each other.

"France, I understand your concern…" Germany eyed 'England' warily. "But if this is not England, then who is it?"

Doubt crossed France's features and his eyes narrowed. "That... I do not know."

Russia stepped closer to England he looking curious but not at all concerned. "If you are not true England then where has he gone? What is your purpose to bring us here?"

"If you want the truth... I can show you." England turned to face them with a light-lipped smile. He then motioned to a door with a grand sweep of his arm. "If you want to see, it's just behind this door."

They all cast uncertain looks to one another, then England.

"It is a trap." China muttered out loud. "Who knows what is in that room."

England giggled and clapped his hands, as if this was all terribly amusing. "Come now, you're not afraid are you? You outnumber me, right? What could I possibly do to hurt you?"

"Germany... I don't like this! This is really weird!" Italy whimpered and gripped his arm tightly as he cowered slightly behind him.

Uncertainty seemed to paralyze the group until Germany stepped forward. "Well then, let's see it."

He stepped forward with confidence. Whatever was behind that door couldn't be too dangerous, they were nations after all. He would not be intimidated by this England. Whoever or whatever he was.

Italy whimpered but followed Germany as he stepped closer.

"Germany don't!"

Germany turned his head just in time to spot a bruised, shirtless America stumble into the room.

At that moment Germany reached the center of the room he felt a sudden surge of energy that shot through his legs and up his body. Looking down, the rug beneath his feet was burned away as markings in the wood were revealed with a blinding light that enveloped the entire room and all the nations inside.

"AAAH!"

"NO!"

The light vanished almost as quickly as it had come, leaving Germany blinded for a few moments.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to regain his sight. He heard Italy gasp beside him and opened his eyes to see what was wrong.

Seven new figures now stood in the room having appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

Before he could comprehend what he was seeing, Italy was ripped from his side by one of the strangers.

"AAH! GERMANY HELP! GERMANYYY!"

Snapping out of his stupor Germany charged at the stranger, who was now holding Italy by the collar. "Get away from him!"

Something hit him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Germany turned to confront the attacker when he was flipped on his back. Germany groaned in pain and before he could stand a boot was on his neck, crushing his throat and making breathing almost impossible. Looking up, his eyes widened at the sight.

It was Italy.

The young man with his boot on Germany's neck looked so much like Italy. But it couldn't be. The real Italy was squirming in the grip of... himself.

He stared into the eyes of the other Italy. They weren't the bright brown eyes he knew so well but a light red, almost pinkish color and they stared back at him with a cold indifference he'd never seen before. Germany struggled against the weight on his neck, surprised by the other Italy's strength.

"It...aly...?"

The other Italy grinned and fingered the blade of the dagger in his hand. The real Italy, on the other hand, was still whimpering and struggling against his own copy.

Germany glared at the imposter wearing his face. "I don't know... who you think... you are," He spat, struggling against the weight on his windpipe. "But let him go! NOW!"

"Or what?" The man drawled and turned his head to stare down at him apathetically.

He was similar to Italy. He looked similar to Germany but not quite the same. His face was sunken and there was a scar under his pale violet eyes. Germany felt a wave of dread come over him from just looking at the stranger. Looking his his face... he was reminded of horrible things. Memories he just wanted to forget. He was almost overwhelmed by the desire to vomit. Whoever this... person was his very existence was a perversion.

"What is going on here!?" China's distressed voice broke out above the others.

There was a flash of movement as Japan shot forward, revealing a katana. The blade grazed the fake Germany's neck.

"Put him down, now." His voice was stern, controlled.

The other Germany stared at Japan for a moment. Germany wanted nothing more than to get his friends away from him but he couldn't move! Then his counterpart laughed and dropped Italy with a shrug. Italy fell to the floor backing away quickly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the strangers going for Japan.

Japan spotted it just in time to block the attack with his sword. His eyes widened as he came face to face with himself. They said nothing but neither one lowered their swords, struggling to overpower the other. Germany had never seen such anger in Japan's face and both Japan's looked ready to fight to the death.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen! Please, there's no need for all this fussing!" The other England raised his arms, waving them placating gesture. "This doesn't need to escalate into violence." He motioned to the other Italy, who still had his boot on Germany's neck.

The other Italy scoffed, then removed his boot allowing Germany to stand.

Germany retreated to the other side of the room, with the rest of the nations. On the other side of the room stood the others. The fakes... copies...

Whatever they were.

"America!"

Germany saw France catch a collapsing America and noticed the fake England bite his lip, as if he was holding back a laugh.

Germany chose that moment to speak up. "What are you?"

"We are you. A reflection, you could say. We are the same person but split into two parts."

Germany frowned. "That's- that's not-"

"Don't pretend you can't feel it." The other him spoke. Germany knew he was looking at him now but couldn't bring himself to look back. He instead looked to the others and he could see the same dread and sickness in their faces that he felt in himself. They all could feel it.

Both Japan's gripped their blades, ready for a confrontation. The other Japan's red eyes, unblinkingly staring into the real ones. Japan's usually calm expression was twisted by anger mirroring the look on the other Japan's face perfectly.

Italy hid behind Japan, silent and trembling. The other Italy was calmly playing with his knives and when he caught sight of the real Italy staring, he grinned and kissed the blade.

France glared at his counterpart; a messy, scruffy looking man. But France's copy seemed to not be interested in any of this and was playing with an unlit cigarette in his fingers.

Russia looked more frightened then Germany had ever seen him, eyes wide and face pale he seemed to shrink away from the Russia across the room. He was a towering colossus with soulless eyes that stared at his counterpart, unblinking.

There was another man, too, with messy blond hair who cast a disgusted glare to Canada. Canada avoided his gaze as he helped France steady a barely conscious America on his feet.

China's face was the most controlled as he glared at the reflection of himself who smiled back at him, mockingly. "Even if it's true, what does that have to do with anything? Why are you people here?" China demanded.

The other China smile widened, slowly. "To become whole."

It took a moment to understand what they meant.

Two parts.

Becoming whole...

He suddenly felt ill, staring into the eyes of his other self, Germany's mind whispered for him to run. He needed to get as far away as possible.

"Like hell!" America spat, he lunged at the fake England only to be held back by France and Canada.

"America, please, you're hurt!" Canada whispered, or spoke, he was so soft spoken it could have been either.

But America just glared at the other group and England in particular. "You're not getting away with this you _freaks_!"

The other Canada didn't seem to have that problem and let out a disapproving hum and turned to the fake England. "Where's Al, anyway?"

England gave a casual shrug. "He was supposed to be looking after this one in the basement until you all arrived." He motioned to America. "I suppose something went wrong."

"Enough wasting time." The other Russia spat. "We do this now. I tire of waiting."

Russia bristled at his other self's sudden demand. "No, I refuse."

The other Russia just smiled for the first time but there was nothing childlike about it. It was a sickeningly twisted grin as he eyed his other half with longing and malice. "Refuse if you wish, it will not change the outcome."

The all air seemed to disappear from the room and Germany was having trouble catching his breath.

"Is that how all of you feel?" The other England asked, glancing at their faces.

No one responded.

The imposter England sighed, as if disappointed. "Well then, the hard way it is."


	7. Chapter 7

Prussia had just released the second prisoner when he heard shouting from above.

"Oh no." Wales whispered.

Prussia turned to him. "What the hell is going on?"

Wales shook his head. "They're insane, all of them! And now they're here."

Prussia glanced at the other America. "What are these people?"

But Wales just shook his head, eyes wide and skin pale. "They're here and there's nothing we can do."

"Yes there is." A familiar voice spoke from the base of the staircase.

The four of them jumped, turning to face the figure that stepped down the staircase.

"England!?"

England looked worse for wear. He wasn't physically beaten like America or the other UK members had been but he did look tired and shaky. He was covered in sweat and looked like he might vomit at any moment. He moved to the sigil on the floor, examining it carefully. Then he nodded, looking grim.

"Will someone tell me what in the hell is going on!?" Prussia questioned loudly, losing his patience.

England moved quickly, taking supplies and altering the lines of the sigil. "We're dealing with doppelgangers of the strongest nations in the world. They have all our strengths, know all our weaknesses and insecurities, and are insane ruthless monsters."

Prussia frowned. That didn't sound good at all. "What do they want?"

"To join this world with theirs and to fuse with their counterparts here."

Prussia shook his head. It sounded ludicrous, until a realization came to him. "What about West?"

"Yes, Germany too. America, France, all the former Allies and Axis members..." England gave a resigned sigh. "Even me." He pointed to the fake America. "Tie him up and move him into the center of the sigil. You should be able to touch it now."

Prussia did just that. Taking the chains from the others and binding the fake's arms and legs.

"What are you doing?" Northern Ireland rasped.

England continued his work. "Altering the sigil. It was designed to summon them here when a nation stepped on it but with a few alterations we can use it to send them somewhere else."

Wales gasped, not daring to hope. "You mean... back to their own world?"

England shook his head. "No, they would still be able to reach us from there. I'm going to send them somewhere else, another world, somewhere where they won't have the strength of nations or power to come back."

Prussia began dragging the unconscious fake over to the sigil. Bastard was heavier then he looked.

"How long will it take?"

England smirked. "Not long, those tossers did all the work for me, setting these things up. All I need so is make the necessary adjustments..." For several agonizing seconds England made marks on the scribbles on the floor. All Prussia could think about was his brother. When England finished, he turned to the others. "Step back. Once I've finished the sigil, it should activate automatically with the other America inside. It should only activate when one of them is inside… When that happens everything inside the sigil will be sent to that other world... if I've done this correctly."

Prussia moved out of the circle, the others also take steps back as England finished the last line of the sigil, taking a step back just as the other America's body was enveloped in light and vanished.

England let out a relieved sigh, though he looked more exhausted than ever. "It worked." He let out a follow laugh. "It serves them right for underestimating me." His gaze then flicked up to the ceiling. "The hard part will be luring them down here to send them to the other world."

Prussia just shook his head. All this talk about other worlds was just flying over his head. "I'll figure something out." He ran for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" England shouted after him.

"To find my brother." He hissed, bolting up the wooden stairs two at a time.

Running from room to room, he searched for any sign of his brother. He didn't have time to come up with a plan but this wouldn't be the first time he'd had to improvise.

Like most nations, England's home was rather large so Prussia needed to hurry. The kitchen, living room, dining hall- he stopped when he heard a crash. He needed some kind of weapon or a distraction or-

His eyes wandered to the banquet table full of food. He smirked as an idea came to mind.

It was too much fun to pass up.

Grabbing the light tablecloth Prussia wrapped up all the food on the table, dragging it with him. He could hear it clanking and sloshing together in the bundle as he moved down the hall.

As he approached the room where the sound had come from he could hear the conversation unfold.

"Refuse if you wish, it will not change the outcome."

Great that freak Russia was here.

"Is that how all of you feel?"

England's voice, must be the fake.

"Well then, the hard way it is."

"Enough of this nonsense!" Germany's voice ushered Prussia to move faster. "If it's a fight you people want it's a fight you will have!"

Prussia burst into the room, spotting the fakes. "SURPRISE LOSERS!"

With all his strength he threw all the food in his arms and enjoyed the sight of it splattering all over the floor and the fakes. Cupcakes, pasta noodles and sauces, mashed potatoes and gravy, all the food splattered beautifully along with the dishes that shattered on the floor. One of the fakes charged at him- Japan with a sword- Prussia threw the soiled table cloth in his face then turned to the others.

"FOLLOW ME. NO QUESTIONS. NOW!"

He ran out of the room and looked back only to check that the other were, in fact, following him. It took seconds to reach the basement door ushering them all down. France was lagging behind with Canada and a wounded America. "What's going-"

"Just go!" He snapped.

Thankfully, they listened. Going down the stairs at an almost painfully slow pace. Prussia caught sight of the fakes coming, fast. Before he had a chance to get down the stairs himself something hit him. He gasped in pain and nearly fell down the steps. A throwing knife was now lodged in his hip. He slammed the door to the basement shut and ran down the stairs, cursing the whole way down. He tripped on the last stair, landing hard on the floor.

"_Scheiße!_"

"Pr-Prussia!?" Someone ran back grabbing his arm. "Are you okay!?" Italy's helped him stand, eyes transfixed on blood.

The door upstairs busted open.

He heard a laugh, a chill ran down his spine, it sounded just like Germany. "They've practically gift wrapped themselves for us."

Prussia pushed Italy forward, moving just behind him. They needed to move for the sigil. They needed to get to the other side before the fakes caught up. The two stumbled forward with the fakes on their heels. The others were already passed the mark.

They were almost at the end of the sigil when-

Energy shot through his legs.

Prussia realized what was happening instantly-

The last thing Prussia saw before he and Italy were completely enveloped was Germany, his eyes wide in concern and fear, calling out to them as someone held him back-

"ITALY! PRUSSIA!"

Light.


	8. Chapter 8

They were gone. In a flash of light all the fakes had vanished...

Taking Italy and Prussia with them.

Germany broke away from the others into the circle-

But nothing happened.

"Where are they...?" He whispered desperately. Germany turned to face the others, spotting England he stormed towards him grabbing him by the collar and shaking him. "Where are they!? Bring them back!"

England shook his head. Guilt evident on his face. "They got caught in the sigil... I..."

Germany shook him again, fighting the urge to throw him against the wall in a fit of helpless frustration. "YOU HAVE TO BRING THEM BACK!"

"I'm sorry Germany... I'm... I..."

Germany's entire body trembled. "Where did they go!? What have you done!?"

England was shaking too, not out of fear but exhaustion. "I sent them to another world... a world where the doppelgangers will be normal humans, unable to return on their own..."

"So... they cannot come back? Prussia and Italy... are you saying they are trapped there with those... things!?" His brother and Italy... he would never see them again?!

"N-no. I can bring them back... I'll..." England's eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the floor.

"Britain!" America gasped. France allowed Canada to hold America up and went to England, pulling him off the floor.

Germany stared at the unconscious England. "What's wrong with him?"

Wales limped forward. "He's exhausted. He's been locked up longer then we have... We haven't had food or a decent nights rest in days."

Reason finally started rearing its head. It forced Germany to step back and take steadying breaths. "...get England what he needs... when he wakes up he can send me to get them."

"If that is the case, I am going too." Japan gave a certain nod to Germany. "We must rescue our friends."

America nodded. "M-me too. I'm still itching for some payback."

The others cast uncertain glances at one another. It didn't matter to Germany if they stayed behind or not.

If need be, he would go alone and he wouldn't return without them...

And if they were hurt...

No, he couldn't think about that now. He'd drive himself insane.

The next hours were spent cleaning up the mess left behind by their other selves... and Prussia. England, the other UK members, and America all rested upstairs. Germany did what he could to keep himself busy and not think about what might be happening where Italy was... Prussia could always take care of himself... but Italy...

_Please, let them be safe... Let them be alright._

England woke from blissful, dreamless sleep but still felt exhausted. He closed his eyes, hoping to go back to sleep but the pain of his stomach kept him awake. The heavenly aroma wafting through his home wasn't helping. Was someone cooking downstairs?

His need for food overcoming his need for sleep, he groaning slightly, and stretched his arms across the bed. He gasped as his hand landed on something warm and soft.

"Bloody hell-" Looking to the other side of the bed he expected the worst but a soft snoring caught his attention. "America...?"

America lay next to him, half his body dangling off the bed and laying on the covers. His breath caught in his throat as he spotted the bruises and cuts on America's face and forehead, a split lip, he could see even more bruises on the exposed flesh of America's neck. England was simultaneously sickened and furious. If he ever saw Oliver again he swore that he'd kill the rotten bastard.

England reached over, lightly shaking him, but America didn't wake up. He only groaned and pushed his face into the bed.

He sighed, smiling slightly. America always did sleep like a log. He did his best to pull America fully onto the bed and pull the covers over him.

Satisfied with his efforts, he headed downstairs on shaky legs and headed for the kitchen. He needed some tea or at least something to eat.

Following the smell from before he entered the kitchen to mind a familiar face standing at the oven.

"F-France!? What the hell are you doing here?"

France glanced over his shoulder and smiled mischievously. "Are you always this vulgar in the mornings?" He laughed. "Well, not morning anymore, _je suppose_."

England would have said something else but France revealed a plate of freshly made crepes with, what looked like mushrooms, and England's stomach growled. France smirked knowingly and England's face flushed in embarrassment.

France handed him the plate without a word and went back to cooking.

England didn't have the energy to argue, muttering a quick thank you and heading to the dining room table. If he hadn't been a gentlemen he might have just shoveled the food into his mouth, like America. The food wasn't _that_ great anyway... really...

Oh, who was he kidding? Right now it was the greatest thing he'd ever tasted.

He was almost finished with his meal when France sat down at the table, he placed another crepe on England's plate and he happily ate it.

"I took some food up. To your brothers." France explained, running a hand through his hair. "Do you remember what happened?"

England stopped mid bite then frowned when he realized what France was talking about. "Prussia and Italy are gone."

France nodded. "Everyone is still here, somewhere." He motioned around the home with a wave of his hand. "You've been asleep all day today. We've been waiting for you to wake up before deciding what to do." He sighed. "Though Germany has been on edge, naturally. He insists on going after them."

England nodded, understanding. "That's probably the only option." England closed his eyes. There was no way of knowing where in that other world they had all been sent. Summoning someone from a different world was entirely unfamiliar territory for him.

Of course there was that time he accidentally summoned Russia but England would much rather forget that little incident. In any case that was summoning someone from the same world.

He groaned. "What a mess."

"_Oui_." France shook his head. "You look terrible."

England scoffed. "I'll be fine." He finished the last of the crepes, enjoying the feeling of a full stomach. He yawned, suddenly very tired.

"You should sleep, I imagine there will be plenty to do tomorrow."

England nodded, absentmindedly. "Thank you, France... I'll see you tomorrow..."

"_Fais de beaux reves." France called from behind him._

England wearily worked his way up the stairs and crawled back into bed. He let out a happily contented sigh.

"Mmmh...Britain?" England lifted his head to see America blinking, sleepily. "...you m'kay?"

England smiled back. "Yes. Of course I'm fine... Are you alright?"

America nodded, blearily. "Mm-hmm."

He sighed, relieved, but at the same time he couldn't shake off the dread he felt. "America, I was..."

_I was so worried about you. I should have found a way out sooner. I_'_m so sorry._

"...I'm glad you're alright..."

"Mmm..." Was the only reply as America was already falling back asleep.

Only when he was sure that America was asleep did England allow his own eyes to close. He prayed for another night of dreamless sleep.

* * *

England handed a photo of the sigil to Germany. "Once you find Italy and Prussia, you'll need to recreate the sigil. You won't be able to use it but I can use it from this side to pull all of you back."

America frowned. "Wait, you're not coming with us?"

"Of course not you twit! Haven't you been listening to a word I've said!?" He sighed, exasperated. "I'd be powerless in that world! If I went with you then you'd _really_ be trapped."

Japan cut in, addressing England. "What should we expect to encounter when we arrive?"

England shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. With any luck the world will not be so different from our own. I'm not entirely sure where but you should be in the same area that Italy and Prussia ended up."

He glanced around the room. Germany, Japan, America, France, Canada, Russia, and China were all going. It took some debating and arguing but it was decided that as many people should go as possible.

There were nine doppelgangers in all and with Italy and Prussia their numbers would be even. With any luck they wouldn't be outnumbered and overpowered.

Germany turned to the others. "Our first priority is to find Italy and Prussia. If you run into the enemy do not engage unless absolutely necessary. And should we become separated, find the largest landmark in the area in sight and wait for the rest of us to arrive."

"Let's kick some ass!" America shouted, ready for action.

They all entered the sigil, some more reluctantly then others.

England stood outside the circle, ready to activate it. "Are you ready?"

There were uncertain glances at one another before a general nod of agreement. With that, England activated the sigil. Energy charged through the air and a light blinded him for a moment. When the light disappeared... he was alone.

"Good luck."

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks for sticking around till the end of Perchance to Dream! Let me know what you think and if you have any pointers on how to improve I'm always glad for input. **

**Obviously the story's not quite done yet! Stay tuned for the next installment as the Hetalia characters make their way into a ****_Brave New World_****.**

**Translation: **

**"Fais de beaux reves": Basically it means 'Sweet dreams'**


End file.
